


For Your Eyes Only

by corpsefluid



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Blood, Eye Gouging, Eye Trauma, Gore, Guro, M/M, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2489099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corpsefluid/pseuds/corpsefluid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick short written on the subject of Ocelot coping with progressively more warped sexual fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Your Eyes Only

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing nurse to a very miserable cat at the time of writing this and have yet to have been bothered with giving this a run of proof reading.
> 
> It was my first time writing anything remotely bosselot flavoured, still haven't gotten a grip on it. I might rewrite it for fun sometime.

Alone at last, of course there were still guards outside the cell, but everyone else had definitely gone on to other business. They wouldn’t come in until Ocelot either left or asked for them.  
  
Now Ocelot could take the time to get a truly good look at Snake, no one to interupt or question it except Snake himself and he was definitely a bit distracted to consider it much. Between his wounds and the pain, the fact he was still conscious was something of a miracle.  
  
Up close like this Ocelot could smell him, even with the stink of blood, piss and ozone over it, Snake was still there in it all. Ocelot grabbed Snake’s face in both hands to keep him still and just look at him.  
  
Snake’s remaining eye seemed dull with exhaustion and pain. It was hard to tell how much he really registered at the moment, but there was a flicker of life there to suggest he hadn’t quite lost consciousness _yet_.  
  
The peace didn’t last long, every time Ocelot looked, his eyes were drawn to the gore covering the right side of Snake’s face. He couldn’t say he was entirely _happy_ about accidentally shooting Snake, but he couldn’t exactly say he was entirely unhappy about it either. It wouldn’t get better, it couldn’t truly be replaced. This was a mark that would stay as long as Snake lived, and it was _his_ mark and no one could take it away from him.  
  
Ocelot brought a hand up to the singed, bloody eyelid. Pressing against it experimentally, before pushing a gloved finger into the jelly-like remains of Snake’s eye with a sick squelch.  
  
Snake was far too hurt, too exhausted to do more than painfully groan in response, but Ocelot could almost imagine it being a different sort of groan.  
  
The kind that sent little shivers down his spine. As he pushed the finger deeper into the ruined eyeball, he couldn’t help biting his lip just a little.  
  
Introducing another finger, Ocelot started digging the remains from the socket.  
  
It surely wasn’t the right way to go about this, but it didn’t matter right now.  
  
The remains mingled with blood as it was pulled, and as the mess of gore travelled down Snake’s cheek Ocelot felt drawn to taste it. Unthinkingly, without removing his fingers from the socket, he leant forward to run his tongue up over Snake’s cheek.  
  
Blood, sweat, tears maybe? If he’d caught any part of the eyeball he couldn’t taste it over the stronger flavours of the salty gore.  
  
Only when he pulled back did if occur to Ocelot that Snake had probably lost consciousness due to the pain. Also that with the man’s body so close, Ocelot was fairly hard.  
  
It wouldn’t have been the first time this sort of proximity had set him off, but it was different this time for a number of reasons. For one thing he wouldn’t be rushing off to find some quiet place in the jungle to jerk himself off as quickly as his body would allow.  
  
And for another, well, Ocelot’s eyes drifted back to where his fingers were buried in Snake’s eye socket.  
  
His glove was _filthy_.  
  
Untying Snake, even if he _had_ lost consciousness was a decidedly bad idea, but cutting him down at least seemed okay. Pulling his fingers from the wound, he reached for his knife to cut the rope suspending Snake.  
  
Ocelot wasn’t entirely prepared to handle Snake’s unconscious weight, but he managed to get him down on the filthy concrete cell floor without any catastrophic fuck ups.  
  
Straddling Snake’s shoulders, Ocelot hesitated a moment before shifting himself a bit higher and reaching for his fly with his clean hand, fumbling for his cock.  
  
Ocelot wasn’t entirely sure of what he was doing until he was holding the eyelids of Snake’s empty socket open to ease the head of his cock into the space. Pushing in until he felt the back of the socket and was reminded a hole like that was far too shallow to properly fuck.  
  
Visually though, it was an image that might keep him warm for a fair few nights, so to speak. But that wasn’t here, now, nor helping the fierce throb of need in his groin.  
  
Gathering the gore left on Snake’s face, Ocelot smeared what he could down the length of his cock. Rubbing himself to make up for the lack of room to thrust as his body would have so dearly liked to.  
  
It hardly lasted at all, but with no one to judge, or worse, laugh at him for it, Ocelot couldn’t really complain about the warmth of satisfaction spreading through his body.  
  
Though almost as soon as he’d extracted himself from Snake’s empty socket, the sight of semen mixed with the gore practically had him raring to go all over again.  
  
What to do next seemed obvious.  
  
Who knew if he’d have another chance? Even if he was really on this man’s side, what were the chances after he’d destroyed the man’s eye? And even if he forgave all that, then it was a matter of when.  
  
Ocelot shifted down Snake’s body, straddling his waist and twisting around to get at his fly.  
  
Cautiously drawing Snake’s cock from his trousers, Ocelot gave it a squeeze to test how it felt in his hand before attempting to stroke it to life. The man wasn’t conscious to appreciate any extra effort on his part, and Ocelot only needed him hard _enough_ before shoving his own pants down, out of the way.  
  
Peeling off his clean glove with his teeth, Ocelot quickly spit into his hand to slick down Snake’s erection and reached behind himself to try to guide it into his arse.  
  
It took a couple of tries and it hurt, of course, but it was easier than he had expected it to be. Once it was all the way in Ocelot paused to take stock of the situation.  
  
It was hard to hear much beyond his own pulse, but between the stretching of his sphincter and the tickle-scratch of Snake’s body hair, he could still feel Snake’s pulse if he focused. A pleasant, steady throb against his skin. It all just made him wonder what it would be like to have the man awake and doing this to him.  
  
Lifting himself up on his knees, Ocelot focused on the slow drag of Snake’s cock sliding out of him, and back in as he lowered himself. Shifting his hips for a hopefully more comfortable angle while he looked for some kind of rhythm.

Something a little more controlled than just fucking himself on the man or jerking himself off.  
  
Just as he started to close his eyes, Ocelot was startled to be hit in the face with a pair of bound fists, knocking him sideways to the filthy concrete floor. Red-faced and sweaty, with trousers down around his thighs and blood on his cock, Ocelot was in no place to look remotely intimidating, let alone fight with the complete loss of balance and tangle of his uniform.  
  
In a second, Snake was on him, the rope binding his wrists pulled tight across Ocelot’s throat, cutting off his air with an almost inhuman growl.  
  
In a moment, confronted with Snake’s snarl, it occurred to Ocelot just how _fucking obvious_ it should have been. No matter how much you think you’re in control, you didn’t _just_ cut someone down unless you _meant_ for them to get away.  
  
What if the man had been awake _before_?  
  
Ocelot wasn’t entirely sure what he expected next, but it certainly wasn’t for Snake to pick right back up fucking him. Even with the pain of the rope crushing his throat and the throb of his head, he could still feel, at least distantly, Snake’s rough, animalistic thrusts very nearly folding his body uncomfortably in half. With the energy he had, Ocelot made an effort to try to look Snake in the eye, see the contrast between the ruined eye and the healthy one.  
  
Snake wasn’t looking, his eyes were closed in concentration, and Ocelot couldn’t make a sound to get his attention. So Ocelot closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the sensation.  
  
Ocelot slowly opened his eyes again only to find himself staring at the wall by his bunk. Startled, he quickly closed his eyes again tightly, trying to bring back the dream with the slow motion of his hips rubbing against the cheap mattress.  
  
It was too late, he was awake. Just off enough from coming to be bitterly disappointed about it, while fast becoming aware enough for it to occur to him just how fucked up it all was to regret the attempt to go back to it.  
  
All Ocelot could really do was shove a hand down his underwear and try so very hard to think of something else, _anything_ else really.


End file.
